THE ULTIMATE OG
by mizzsnow
Summary: Wocky Kitati becomes THE O.G. and meets the girl of his dreams


This young man was not the type you'd ever see studying for school, hard at work for some white-collar job or even settling with a girl to raise a family. All of those things were his antithesis, except maybe for the family part. A gangsta's family name needs to be passed down somehow, after all. And tonight, he was going out to do crime.

It was Wocky's plan. He was going to do some small-time crime, enough to get a fine if he got caught but nothing big enough to get into jail. Ever since the Kitaki's vowed to make money clean, his father's been very strict with crimes: never commit unless absolutely necessary; avoid jail at all costs. He pressed the area over his heart, not too hard in fear that it'll suddenly stop, a gesture he's been repeating more than a few times over the past few months. He knew it was all for the operation, a risky procedure with a low success rate if at all, but he didn't like the direction the family was taking at all.

"We used to be the of !" he complained once, to his father, which he promptly dismissed as he had no idea what he was talking about. but Wocky knew their street cred was falling, he could feel the jeering of the rival gangs right behind his back. Wocky was determined to take matters into his own hands, even if he'll do it little by little. He was going to find a girl, a genuine girl who wasn't faking her affections like Tiala, he was going to raise his own army of tiny and take over and gain complete control of the Kitakis in the end.

Any rational person would've brushed away that thought as completely ridiculous, but it only encouraged the young delinquent even more. His mind was set now, he searched through his gym bag once more: he had a bat, spray cans, rocks, all sorts of miscellaneous items because he really had no idea what he was going to do tonight. It's not like Wocky was exactly the type to plan ahead, and he couldn't rely on his family to help him out anymore. He figured he'd think of something when he goes out, it'll all plan itself out in the end. A quick look in the mirror reflected a satisfying appearance, his multi-colored hair and fox-like features scream, "_THIS IS ONE O.G. GANGSTA."_

With no plan at all and a dream to follow, he pulled on his bright, flashy jacket and sneakers and jumped out the window.

It wasn't a long fall at all, but he fell right on his heels and kneeled down in pain for a good few minutes. It was better than risking walking about in his enormous mansion, and jumping out the window was something really cool in itself, at least in those movies where the guy makes his daring escape from the girl he's been secretly meeting's parents. It felt less satisfying in real life.

When the pain subsided, he stood up and started walking with a slight limp, muttering to himself "just walk it off, it'll be fine." The problem was that all he was doing was walking. The Kitaki had planned his escape from the window, but after that point, he really didn't have any idea what to do. He contemplated his choices: stealing from a nice store, breaking and entering someone's house, or maybe something basic like vandalism, all over the side of some rich senator's building. He never considered the consequences of each of these actions, though. He wandered aimlessly, ultimately not doing anything because the sheer number of opportunities he saw was overwhelming, until he stopped at a certain building with a familiar name.

WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY

He nodded at the words, the building too dark to see but the words were large and written clearly enough to be visible. That guy - he forgot his name, but his girlfriend (or that's what he thinks she is) always called him Polly. He was the guy who stopped him from going to jail, even if he did find out his own girlfriend was a fake, untrustworthy. The thought of that case annoyed him. He figured he owed him a favor for that time, help him out with getting the Kitaki rep back.

He didn't figure lawyers would be accomplices to criminal acts.

He pounded at the Wright Anything Agency's door. At ungodly hour, he shouldn't have expect anyone to answer the door. But someone did, anyway, someone cleaning up after a magic trick gone wrong. The door swung open and a belligerent-looking Trucy Wright stood at the entrance.


End file.
